Pick Your Poison
by happilyinsane13
Summary: When Ron suddenly dies on an auror mission, Hermione is left with a young Rose and Hugo to take care of and not enough money from her own job to support them. Resorting to desperate measures Hermione finds the underbelly of Knockturn Alley and a special version of Russian Roulette awaits her in order to make big money fast. Draco Malfoy is waiting for her. AU. Canon Divergence.


Hermione couldn't move from the grave in front of her, she couldn't tear her eyes off the name written in stone.

Ronald Bilius Weasley

1 March 1980 – 23 November 2007

Loving father, loyal friend

How could all her love for a man suddenly have to be embodied in words on a stone and a corpse in the ground? She was lost without his laugh. She couldn't keep her mind sharp without their spats. She could never find solace in her darkest times when his beautiful blue eyes were buried under a sea of ugly brown dirt. No. Hermione could only focus on her grief embodied in a grey headstone and an unborn child in her belly.

The wind blew against her black dress. She shivered. The chilly gale wrapped around her legs and stung the tear tracks on her cheeks. She had forgotten to put on pantyhose… Ron would have teased her.

"Hermione,"

Hermione turned around to see Harry, his green eyes watery and rimmed with a vicious red. He wasn't crying now though because she needed him and Hermione loved him and hated herself for it.

"Rose?" she croaked out.

"George and Angelina have her right now," Harry said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "Mrs. Weasley would've taken her but… I don't think she's up to it yet."

Hermione nodded, leaning her head against Harry's shoulder. Her left side felt so empty. That had been Ron's side. Harry and Ron's arms would be firmly clasped together as they sheltered her, protected her even though they knew she was strong without them. She had felt safe though. She didn't realize how vulnerable she'd feel without one of them.

"I thought, you know, when I was eleven, that the magical world would have an answer to everything," she said, struggling to force the words out. "I thought, once I got my letter, that having magic meant I could conquer anything." She released a watery giggle, completely hollow and lifeless. "I guess even magic can't stop a mad man and an Unforgiveable curse."

Harry hugged her tighter to him.

"We'll have Randax Lestrange put in the deepest, darkest cell of Azkaban, I swear to you," Harry vowed fiercely. "If I don't get my hands on him first."

Hermione stiffened at the name. Randax Lestrange, son of Rabastan Lestrange, nephew of Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange, had been attacking muggles and muggle-borns under the cover of night. Although the death toll hadn't been too high it was enough that muggles in the London area had begun to notice and draw attention to the murders and vicious attacks. With 12 attacks and 4 deaths, a team of aurors had to be dispatched. Ron originally wasn't going to be apart of the team but when one of the others had fallen ill Ron took his place, and paid the price for it.

"Honestly Harry," Hermione said, her voice turning to steel. "What closure can I have? Ron is dead and I want him back, that's the only thing I want."

She gasped and shuddered as all of her fears and grievances poured out of her mouth like a sickness, "He'll never see this child be born, he'll never see our children get on the Hogwarts express, he'll never walk Rose down the aisle, he'll never fight with me again over work or wear he put the tea rags, I'll never see him debate with you about quidditch, and I'll forget what he looked like when he smiled."

Suddenly the floodgates opened again and Hermione was sobbing into Harry's shoulder. She thought she had cried all her tears away when she first heard the news of his death, then again when Rose asked why daddy wasn't home, and again as Ron's body was lowered into the ground. But no, she realized as she lost all strength in her legs and miserably pulled Harry to the ground. They clutched at each other and sobbed as they both realized that there would never be enough tears to shed for Ron. They could flood the world with their grief and broken love but never, ever, would they stop.

Hours later Ron's will had been read and it was all that they had planned and all Hermione needed. Even as Mrs. Weasley begged, "No, dear, I can't, take the money, take the money!" Hermione did not budge. Instead she tried to smile and say, "He left enough for Rose and this baby when they come of age, and he wanted you to be comfortable. I make enough at my job. We'll be fine. This is what he wanted. This is what he wanted."

All she could think to herself was, "Ron, do you believe in me?" She liked to believe that the autumn rain that poured from the sky was him crying, "Yes."

She gave birth with Harry at her side and the entire Weasley family waiting in the lobby of St. Mungo's. She cried and sobbed. It was turning out to be a complicated birth. The baby was facing the wrong way and he was coming too fast, she was too close to birth to receive an anesthesia potion and she just kept sobbing as she tried to push. Screaming, screaming, "Ron! Where are you? Ron, I need you! Our baby, our baby!"

Harry let her crush his hand, wet his shoulder, and Harry held her, saying "You can do this Hermione, you can!" Inside Harry Potter was terrified thinking, _If I lose her I die, If I lose her I can't do this, Ron save her, don't take her from me yet…_

Desperation bred desperate cries and desperate pleas and when Hugo was finally born he had Ron's blue eyes and she wept over his head, kissing him, as Harry cut the cord. In their strange blend of joy and sorrow they wanted to believe that their prayers had been answered.

Hugo was two and Rose was four when Hermione looked at her accounts, put her head in her hands, and whispered to herself, "Grindelwald's bollocks." Luna had been sitting on her desk beside her, Hermione honestly forgot why she was there, and released her airy like laugh.

"It's not funny Luna," Hermione groaned. "If I was living by myself or even just one child I'd be making enough to make a living. But with two children… I need enough money for food, clothes, and for Merlin's sake a day care. I can't keep dropping them off at Molly's and Ginny's place."

Luna cocked her head to the side. "What about the money Ron left them?" Hermione wanted to flinch and smile all at once. The mention of Ron still hurt but she couldn't help but smile at Ron's thought toward his children. It was a humble sum, but he had saved it with such devotion and pride that Hermione could never belittle the amount.

"It's for when they go to school, an allowance to be given to them when they turn thirteen," Hermione said, turning to Luna to look into her dreamy eyes. "It's their money, I can't take it."

"And you'll never borrow from anyone, and I doubt you'll ask for a loan from Gringotts," Luna said, surprisingly logical, Hermione couldn't help but notice. "You'll have to get a second job then, Hermione, as long as your pride is in the way."

Hermione picked up her quill and threw it at Luna's head but didn't bother to deny it.

"I'm a thirty year old witch with a job at the Magical Department of Law Enforcement during the day, and that leaves only night jobs and not many, um, slightly reputable establishments are going to hire me when I've just gotten off of my day job. Besides, it won't be enough money."

"Well then, Hermione, how about something slightly les reputable?"

Hermione threw Luna a sharp look.

"Have you forgotten I work for the Magical Department of Law Enforcement? They'll turn me away once they see me."

"They don't have to see you as you," Luna said, pulling out her wand and twirling it in the air, blue and silver sparks lighting up the air in front of her. "You don't have to be the shining war hero to them, in fact, if you pretend to be a more corrupt version of yourself they might accept it better than if you had to drink a flask of polyjuice potion every hour."

Luna turned to Hermione, who was gaping at her, her eyes suddenly sharp.

"Everyone wants to believe that a goody-two-shoes can be corrupt, that someone who seemed to hold themselves above them can be brought down to their level."

Hermione cocked her head at Luna curiously.

"Luna, I think for once you're making sense to me!"

Luna smiled then looked for something in the air that Hermione could not see.

This is how Hermione Granger found herself scuttling through Knockturn Alley on a Saturday night. When she had dropped Rose and Hugo off at Mrs. Weasley's she had simply told her she was going to have a bit of a night out with Luna. Luna would cover for her if any member of the Weasley clan sought to contact her. Hermione felt bad for doing this behind her family's back, including Harry, but she knew they would try to stop her, try to give her the money she needed, but she couldn't depend on them forever and Luna had been right. She had too much damn pride. As she shuffled from mangy bar to bar, looking desperately for sign of illegal activity she could make big money from, she tried not to think about what Ron would say.

On her eighth bar, _The Wiggling Eyeball_, Hermione was about ready to give up for the night. It was nearing one in the morning and she was growing hopeless. _This was always Ron and Harry's job_, she thought bitterly as she walked down the cobblestone streets, _finding the illegal activity._ _I only did the prosecuting_. It was only when Hermione was making her way past a pub she had already been into, _The Devil's Claw_, that an old man under a raggedy brown cloak pulled on the back of her hood.

"Watch it!" she exclaimed, spinning on her heel and swiftly grabbing her hood to pull it over her face.

The old man just flashed a grin. She spotted that he was missing several teeth, and one of his eyes was a milky white coating what used to be brown.

"Pick your poison?" he asked gleefully, holding out a tray of vials for her to see. There were five of them all the same shape, but all different colors ranging from dull amber to a brilliant neon green. She looked at the old man who was slightly shaking the tray in front of her eyes, daring her to take the challenge. She raised an eyebrow from underneath her cloak but he must have noticed, for he launched into a riddle,

"Pick your poison and see,

If you're as good as the rest,

Move up the ranks and prove

That you're the best.

Riches will be your reward,

If you can survive,

But first this test

So you can see what I hide.

The brightest seeks to fool you

With its deadly shade.

The dullest is as dull

As a knight's fine blade.

A smell that deters and

A smell that attracts

Are derived from our friends

In woven, sticky barracks.

Last of all we have one

That tells all

From its pure heat it

Kills you before you can call."

Hermione had a brief sense of déjà vu, a flash of memory from when she was eleven but then she smiled. She loved a mental challenge, even if this was a particularly easy one.

"You're saying that all but one are poisonous, am I correct?" She laughed. She leaned forward and smelled the vials, wrinkled her nose, then pointed to a deep purple liquid, and then the black one beside it. "These smell the most sweet and the most vial. From your hint they have been derived from a species of arachnids that live in colonies, probably in either the Dark Forest near Hogwarts, or the Black Forest of Germany. Maybe both, as the colonies of the Scottish Highlands excrete a rather foul poison while those in Germany try to attract their prey with theirs. The warm vial, the disgusting yellow one, is bubotuber puss and I've had enough experience with that to know it when I see it. The amber one is poison, as the riddle clearly states, and the green one is harmless."

In the heat of the moment and the pure excitement to prove her theory she picked up the vial and downed it, grinning at the little man, who was grinning right back.

"Ah, miss, you're perfect, perfect for our games," he said, bowing a little and as he straightened he grabbed the sleeve of her robe and started to drag her into the bar. "You not only solved the riddle but you drank your choice without hesitation. Yes, yes you can go far, you can go far…"

"How does anybody not solve that riddle? It's quite simple." Hermione said, realizing too late that she sounded quite snobbish.

The old man however, only chuckled. "You'd be surprised, my dear, how many stupid wizards exist in this world."

Hermione knew all too well. "And witches, " she supplied.

"And witches," he agreed. "But they're in the minority in our little game."

As Hermione let herself be dragged behind the bar and led into what looked like the dusty old cellar she suddenly wondered, "If I had drunk the wrong potion, would I have died?"

"Oh no, I had the antidote my dear," he said reassuringly. "The dying part comes later in the game."

Suddenly Hermione wasn't sure if she had made the right decision as the man pulled her down the last few rickety stairs and into the depths of the cold cellar. She was suddenly in a room lit by bright green torches, a long table filled to the brim with bottles and vials of various size, shape, and color, wizards surrounded her, looking around in amazement. Hermione looked around but fear was filling the pit of her stomach instead of wonder, the adrenaline she possessed earlier draining out of her veins.

"All new contestants, just like you," the old man said proudly. "Have to make a new draft every year for a new season you see. Too many, um, well, go to the other side."

"And who runs this game?" Hermione choked out.

"You'll meet him later, but the coaches are here, at the front."

The little man pointed a knobby hand in the direction of a small stage at the head of the table of vials. Their backs were to the rough, wet stone of the cellar, and the green light made their faces look gaunt and grave. There was a woman with dark red-brown hair that fell to her shoulders, high cheekbones set in a thin face, and piercing hazel eyes that scrutinized the newcomers in front of her. A stocky man beside her with a messy head of brown hair and deep-set brown eyes surveyed the group with a look of excitement. As he leaned over to whisper to the man next to him Hermione had to stifle a gasp.

He had white blonde hair, hard grey eyes, tall, all sharp angles and bones with a look of boredom etched on his face.

It was Draco Malfoy, a man she had not spoken a word to since their time at Hogwarts and barely seen since his trial after Voldemort's defeat. It was only _then_ that Hermione's feet began to move, slowly, backwards to the steps. It was only _then_ that her hood slipped off her head and exposed her face for all to see. It was only _then_ that Draco Malfoy decided to turn his pale face in her direction, caught her eyes, and his look of boredom morphed into his infamous sneer.

"Well, Granger, look how you've wandered into the viper's nest!" He called out, and he laughed amongst the sudden silence and Hermione felt like his laughter was worse than any poison she could swallow, seeping through her skin, dribbling through her veins, and stopping her heart cold.


End file.
